Until the Sunrise
by runninequalslife
Summary: Two-shot: "No one looks back on life and remembers the nights they had when they got plenty of sleep". I always thought it was a load of crap, until twelve hours changed the rest of my life. Rated M for substance abuse and language.
1. Day

**Title**: Until the Sunrise

**Rating**: M for mature themes, substance abuse, and coarse language.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters, names, places, anything from High School Musical or Disney. This story is copyright to the owner and may not be used without permission. I in no way affiliated with any of the High School Musical Cast, Disney, Kenny Ortega or Peter Barsocchini. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. I do not own any of the lyrics to "Until the Sunrise" or am affiliated with Timeflies, Cal Shapiro or Rob Resnick.

**A/N**: Sup, HSM world, anyone still out there?

Confession, this probably the most random thing I've ever done.

Few things I feel I should address: No, I will not be writing a 40 chapter story any time soon, I'm way too busy running around with a recorder in my hand or attempting to fight off sleep in the library at 1 a.m. during the school year. Please don't ask me to, unless you're offering to study and attend lecture for me come fall. Then get at me. I'm only posting this because I got bored as hell at my summer internship and wanted to see if I could actually write something not in AP style. Also heads up if you're a newbie to my stuff, I don't write canon. I'm just merely using their names and goddamn attractive bodies. This is a story about college life the way I know it. I like booze, boys and the word fuck and am not afraid to use them.

Anyways, I hope you like it and thank you for reading! It was meant to be a oneshot, but got too long so I decided to split it up. Honestly, it's fairly plotless and much different from the heavy stuff I used to write. Crossing my fingers it's alright.

* * *

_It's getting loud we're moving faster_

_Like the beating of your heart_

_This could be a sweet disaster_

_Run with me into the dark._

_This night is perfect, so don't let it end_

_Let's make it worth it cuz I got a feeling_

_That when this is over, we'll do it again_

-Timeflies, "Until the Sunrise"

* * *

I'm going to be honest: 74.3 % of what I learned in college was complete bullshit.

Maybe I'm not the best one to give my opinion; I spent the first four semesters groaning over the idea of majoring in pre-law just to please my father instead of pursuing my dream to be a surgeon. I completely wasted two years knocking off gen-eds and falling asleep through monotone lectures of Legal Research and Writing 211. Math and science were more my thing.

I didn't actually start learning anything relevant until junior year when my boyfriend picked up my book of New Mexican statutes and chucked them at my apartment wall. It happened after I had been complaining all day of how I would hate being a lawyer – a daily ritual. I resisted, until he skipped his Kinesiology 309 class, literally carried me to my adviser and made me switch.

But that's another story.

College, for me, was more about life experiences than learning intellectual information. I grew up as an army brat. I jumped among ten different states before I was twelve. It wasn't until I stepped foot on the University of Albuquerque campus on move-in day, however, that I finally broke my shell and became far more outgoing. I can thank freshman year for that one.

There were three experiences I had those first two years that ultimately helped me evolve from an innocent high school girl to a college student who could confidently define herself.

Looking back, the first was fairly pathetic. See, in high school I was one of those 4.0 smart girls who never had to pick up a book and still managed to graduate in the top five percent of my class. Transitioning into a university swimming in geniuses forced me to learn even the smartest had to work their asses off. It was a Wednesday when the email landed in my inbox, informing me the grade my first midterm for Anthropology was posted. I had been cocky, assuming I aced it with flying colors. Instead, the fat and ugly "C" curled on my computer screen, mocking me. I called my mom; I cried. I figured any chance of law school evaporated – not that I would have minded.

It was the first and last C I ever received in the eight years of my post-secondary education.

The second lesson was that its okay to have fun. Being cross country and soccer captain, treasurer of student council, and under persistent hawk eyes of my ex-soldier father, the thought of alcohol consumption was completely out of the question. It wasn't like I felt left out or anything, I was content with my school work.

Being at the University of Albuquerque changed things. Given the school is number eight on Princeton Review College Party School ranking, my crazy, and highly dysfunctional, family I found on my floor Freshman year helped me shake away the previous notion that alcohol was dangerous and deviant. I started going out on the weekends after I moved in to the co-ed dorm. I've had some incredible nights, and also some embarrassing ones. As long as we take care of each other and don't let our grades slip, a little harmless college lifestyle doesn't kill you. Besides, U of A is named 29th-best university in the world by Times Higher Education World Reputation Rankings. We work hard to play hard.

I learned the final, and most important, lesson on Homecoming sophomore year: a kiss can change everything.

* * *

**_Saturday, October 22, 2011_**

**_9:43 a.m._**

"I'm dying."

I glanced over my shoulder to see my roommate's limbs knotted in impossible angles in the chair. Her head was bowed and her hair blanketed her body, face hidden between her legs.

"You're not dying." I promised, "It will pass in an hour."

"Fucking. Tequila. I'm never drinking again."

I laughed, "Sharpay, you say that every weekend. And then you go out again the next night."

"I mean it this time."

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to our kitchen and flipped the switch to the coffeemaker. It grunted and shuddered, angered I forced it to life. I mentally added a new one to the list of things I would need once Christmas break came along. So it was only October, a girl needed to prepare for these events ahead of time.

"You want any?" I asked. Behind me, the coffeemaker spotted the countertop.

Between two thick strands of her blonde hair, I saw a flicker of her whiskey-colored glare, "I'd puke it up."

I looked down the hallway to see if our other roommate, Taylor, wanted some. Her door was closed, though if I listened close enough, I'd be able to hear the soft hum of her voice singing along to a song I didn't know. Unlike drunky on the chair and I, Taylor had been responsible and did homework last night.

"We were supposed to be at the boys' a half hour ago. C'mon Shar, do you really want to miss homecoming?" I asked. Cringing, I poured the chunky coffee into a clean mug.

"Oh God, the thought of pre-gaming anymore…"

"I'm not drinking." I said, taking a sip of my coffee, "I can attend a football game without putting illegal substances in my body. It is possible."

"Ughh."

On the counter, my phone buzzed. I caught Sharpay wincing at the sound in the corner of my eye. After checking it, I slid it shut again and said, "That was Chad. He wants us there, like, now."

"Tell him to go to hell."

"You weren't saying that to him last night," I had a mischievous smirk on. Then, I sighed and tapped my fingers on the counter, "Do you want to go or not?"

Taylor's door creaked when it opened. The black-haired genius walked into the light; her tennis shoes tapped against the kitchen tiles as she walked and a red shirt covered her.

"Morning!" Taylor said. She noticed the lump of Sharpay on the chair and raised her eyebrows, "Rough night?"

"Ughh."

"What'd you guys do?" Taylor asked.

I shrugged, "There was something on Monroe St. last night. But Sharpay had three too many tequila shots."

"Did Chad sleep here?"

My eyes flickered to Sharpay, "No. He walked her back at like four."

Taylor smiled tightly. Sometimes I wondered if she ever secretly got annoyed with Sharpay and I after nights that we went out. Taylor was the studious one and went out on rare occasions. We respected her lifestyle and she respected ours – or at least she didn't call us idiots in front of our faces. Whatever, at least we didn't act like a 60-year-old grandma with arthritis and a bowel problem when we were nineteen.

"What are you doing for the game?" I asked.

Taylor opened the refrigerator and grabbed a yogurt and an orange. Sharpay moaned again.

"Martha and I are going with some of the girls from Chem lab," she said and pulled back the lid back on the yogurt, "Boys' house?"

I nodded, glanced at the clock, and sighed.

"And we should have been there like, now. C'mon Shar, either get up now or I'm leaving you."

The blonde grunted once before placing one foot onto the carpet of our apartment, then the other. When she stood, I had to look up. Even hunched over, she towered over my pathetic 5'2" size; where her golden hair ended her legs began. She swayed as she walked towards me. For a brief moment, I thought she was still drunk. Maybe she still was.

"Get your ticket. I'll get you some water, kay?"

Sharpay dragged down the hallway to her room and shut the door behind her.

"Have fun," said Taylor before she screwed the cap on her water bottle and left.

* * *

**_Saturday, October 22, 2011_**

**_10:14 a.m._**

A half an hour passed before we turned the street corner and took in Fulton Street's ugly maroon house. It was difficult, however, to actually determine any other color than the shimmering flashes of jay-blue and scarlet darting in and out of the sunlight. With every step, the stereo base sent electrical signals through my legs and to my brain, immediately triggering the neurons responsible for dancing.

Focus Montez: Football, not a sweaty dance party.

"There are a lot of people here!" The little brunette in glasses skipping beside me said, "At least forty!"

I turned to Kelsi Neilson, who was an inch shorter than I and also lived on my floor last year. Her big, brown eyes were wide – bugged, underneath her thick-rimmed glasses.

I smiled and rubbed my temple to rid my baby hang-over headache, "They did well today. Just don't tell 'em that. How you doing Shar?"

Sharpay's eyes, and entire face for that matter, hid behind her sunglasses. She gave me a tight smile and shrugged, "Better. But if I get even a whiff of the WOP I'm kicking it the fucking tub over."

That seemed more like the Sharpay I knew.

My fellow Redhawks, some of whom I recognized and strangers, were scattered in bundles around the beer pong table in the front yard, the rickety porch that was about the break and the alleyway beside the houses. For any other circumstances, the glazed look in many of their eyes would have been unacceptable. This was, however, The University of Albuquerque football. The pregames were just as famous as the team itself.

"Look who finally decided to show up!" A male voice called out as soon as we reached where the sidewalk met the pathetic excuse for a walkway. The black coils on Chad Danforth's head bounced as he bounded down the porch steps and weaved through the crowd. The white of his smile contrasted with the dark hue of his skin, making it almost sparkle.

"You can blame this one for us being late." I elbowed Sharpay beside me.

Chad's eyes lingered on her for a second longer than the rest of us. He then hugged each of us respectively, which gave me the indication that he was at least tipsy. His breath had a stale beer scent.

He smirked, "Figures it'd be you."

Sharpay's bitch-personality that was sedated for the past six hours suddenly awoke: pissed, raging and deadly.

"_Excuse me_? Who's idea was it to take three body shots on the fucking kitchen table?" She tapped her ruby heels against the sidewalk – okay, she may have been my best friend, but she was insane to wear heels to a football game. It wasn't Texas.

When Chad wiggled his eyebrows, it looked like an exotic caterpillar having a seizure, "You weren't complaining when my tongue was licking your…"

"Dude, Danforth! Help me bring out the WOP tub!"

I should have been kissing the ground for the voice that saved Kelsi and I from explicit details of Chad and Sharpay's relationship- Friendship? Hook-up-ship? Whatever the hell they were? – but immediately my body tensed. Dear God, Allah, Zeus, Buda, Channing Tatum: _please _don't let anyone but Sharpay see shiver that rippled down my spine.

His smile was bright and beautiful when we all turned to see him walk towards us. With a flip of his hair to remove the dark hair that flopped on his forehead, he moved across the yard with ease. I willed every muscle in my body not to spring into his arms and confess the undying feelings for him I fought so desperately to keep hidden.

"Do it yourself," Chad barked back.

He rolled his eyes that were usually burning with passion but then beady thanks to the WOP, "It's in yours and Brooks' room and he's too hammered to give me the key."

In sync, we all turned to our red-headed, six-five premed friend who was in the middle of shot-gunning a beer and fell into the railing. Well, at least something supported him.

"That's smart." Kelsi said, "Locking your doors so no one steals anything."

"Or fucks in my bed."

Chad glared at him and then shot a glance at Sharpay, who was busy picking at her pink nail polish.

I felt his eyes on me before I saw them. The world felt smaller, the air thicker and hard to inhale. Beneath his red shirt, his arms raised, waiting.

"Hey you," Jason Cross, my best guy friend and the only boy who could irregulate my heart, said before he engulfed me.

"Hi." My voice sounded higher than usual.

As I stood on my tiptoes to return the hug, I remembered how falling for him had been a complete accident. Honestly, he was camouflaged in the backdrop of our floor meeting the first night we moved into the dorms last year. Jason's cute with his boyish face and the haircut that begs for a trim. His personality, however, is what makes girls drop to their knees in pleads – and in response to _his _pleads. I ignored his player-reputation when I fell for him two weeks into college, and have been haunted by him ever since.

"So glad you're here," Jason slurred slightly. He then released me and turned back to our friends. "Hey Sharpay!" He greeted before hugging her as well. I looked away. Sharpay's eyes dug deep holes into my skin while trying not to vomit on Jason's shirt - for multiple reasons. I tried to ignore them.

On cue, a carbon copy blond I didn't recognize yelled "Jase!"and sprinted into the grip I was just in. Reality slapped my cheek and punctured a deep indent into my heart.

I took a deep breath in, trying to settle myself and shake the feeling. Trying to look anywhere but at the floppy black hair and dark eyes I got lost in, I turned my head and saw a figure leaned against the porch siding. The PBR logo on his beer was unrecognizable beneath his long fingers.

He met my gaze; hesitation shimmered over his tan skin. The initial awkwardness flooded my blood, remembering the last time I saw him, but I shook it clean.

"Hey! How are you?" I greeted, turning so I could direct my attention more towards the spiky-haired boy staring at me.

Troy Bolton smiled and stepped off the porch.

"Hey." Troy said slowly. His eyes darted over my face, trying to read my expression.

Let me recap: Troy was a transfer from the University of Phoenix this year. He was a kinesiology major and went to high school with Chad. He was an only child, played basketball since he was four and had eyes that dazzled.

He also had magic fingers that made me cum on the spot when I hooked up with him one night a month ago and a queen sized bed in a studio apartment – a rare breed on campus.

"Bolton, there you are! BP partner. NOW!" Chad yelled to him, "Me and you against Cross and Baylor."

Before Troy broke our stare and turned to him, he gave me a small smile. I returned it politely. It was the least I could do. He _did _let me sleep in his bed and didn't ask for sex once that night, another rare breed. Plus, being friends with Chad made him friends with the guys, so it was inevitable that I'd run into him regularly.

And I gotta admit, he's pretty cute.

He bounded down the stairs and passed me without another word. Chad clamped his back and strutted towards the beer pong table, which was painted like a miniature football field. The duo stood facing me. Unable to help myself, I watched as Troy dipped the ping pong ball into a water-filled SOLO cup, tossed it easily into the middle cup.

"Freshman cup! You know da rules, drop 'em, Troy Boy." Zeke Baylor, another boy from my floor last year, slurred. Chad shot me a smirk, along with Sharpay and Kelsi. I waited, and hoped, for Jason's eyes to fall on me, tainted jade. Of course, they didn't.

I blushed when Troy unbuttoned his jeans and wiggled until they crumpled at his ankles. Sharpay elbowed me in the back, leaned into my ear and whispered, "You're a lucky little bitch, you know."

I looked at Jason, who was aiming his shot and oblivious to my eye's magnetic pull, and shook my head.

My head shook, "No, I'm not." I said and ripped away from the boy I couldn't live without. Sharpay frowned, "C'mon, let's see if we can find anything in that house that doesn't have alcohol in it."

* * *

**_Saturday, October 22, 2011_**

**_10:47 a.m._**

Sharpay's necklace jangled against her chest when we walked past the slumbering police car parked a block away from the boys' house. On the other side of her, Kelsi's fingers pulled at her Carolina colored sleeves.

"Do you think they're gonna get busted?"

I shook my head, "Nah. You know the cops don't care as long as no one is being stupid."

"Pshh, they're all stupid. Zeke's not even gonna make it to the game. And Chad's being a little fuck and won't leave that house." I imagined Sharpay's eyes rolling beneath her sunglasses, which made her look like a manicured praying mantis.

"Coming from the girl who wanted to die this morning." She slapped the back of my head, which sent my exploding black curls flying in my ponytail, "Hey!"

Herds of students condensed in the streets as we drew closer to Dane Memorial Stadium, the U of A Redhawk's football home. With each student that passed, my smile grew. Gamedays were better than an ice cream sundae served by Chase Crawford in Honolulu.

I would have turned the corner, but a red t-shirt and jeans clad figured flashed in my peripheral. It took a half breath to realize we were just in front of Zeke's house. The dark-skinned-Dwyane-Wade-Betty-Crocker friend moved his hands wildly as he talked to my ex-hook up in his gravel driveway. As I opened my mouth to urge the other two on before he saw me, Troy's bright eyes met mine. Sighing, I waved and almost looked down…

When he beckoned us over.

That uncomfortable rush of anticipation nipped my heart and pumped wildly in my veins. I'm not one to make situations awkward, but given that his was the first boy's bed I've slept in since I've been in college, I don't exactly have experience dealing with the post-hook-up aftermath. He was drunk, I was drunk, it was merely a blimp in my memory radar. Couldn't he just be like normal boys and pretend I didn't exist after seeing me naked?

"Long time no see." I tried to act cool, suave.

Instead, my sneaker's toe caught a stray rock and I stumbled.

Troy snickered when I finally reached him. Somewhere next door, Mike Stud's rap provided an anthem for a beer bong. I almost couldn't hear Troy over the cheering.

"What are you doing today?" Troy asked bluntly. His draw string backpack waved against his back. He pulled at the string, and I couldn't help but watch his bicep inflate under his homemade cut off shirt.

It was my turn to smirk, "Well, there is this football game today…"

"I mean after."

"Are you going to Allison's tonight?" Zeke asked.

I shrugged, "I don't know, maybe. I have a speech due and I had a headache this morning. Too much time in front of the computer."

Troy's white teeth blinded when he curled the left side of his lips, "That's not true. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to lie, Gabriella?"

"Guess it's my only bad habit," I couldn't control the way the ends of my words curled and caressed.

"Ah, that's not true, Miss Innocent. I know better."

I suddenly realized I stood in the middle of my friends; my hips aligned with and mirrored Troy's. Heat diffused across my cheeks, was that the sun or my blush? "Sorry, I'll get out of the middle…" I quickly retreated between Sharpay and Kelsi.

"I'm bored, can we go?" Sharpay asked, picking the dirt out of her nails

"Yeah, we should go." I waved and looked up into Troy's clear eyes. They twinkled when they met mine, "Maybe see you later?"

Troy grinned, "Definitely."

* * *

**_Saturday, October 22, 2011_**

**_5:18 p.m._**

"You know he was only talking to you at Zeke's today, right?"

Sharpay's normally sunshine hair was faded to a graham cracker shade when she pulled the bath towel from her head. It flopped into chunks that rested against the hot pink towel squeezing her skinny frame. I always envied her model body type, in comparison how I looked like a Hispanic Smurf thanks to my midget height.

I rolled my eyes and adjusted my butt against the bar stool. Notecards peppered the counter, which overlooked our open kitchen. The creamy surface reflected the white and blue Facebook newsfeed glowing on my laptop screen.

"Stop, alright? I don't care who he was talking to. We're not even going to Allie's. You're still hungover and I have a speech to write."

Sharpay ran a finger through her wet tresses, "I'm just sayin', Troy's fucking ten times hotter than Jason is."

I hoped my eyes sent hot coals in her direction when I glared at her, "You know I'd give anything not to like Jase anymore."

She flashed her manicured hand, "I know, I know. 'It's so fucking hard liking one of your best friends. It's so hard watching him hook up with other girls in front of you. It's so hard trying to keep it a secret from everyone else cuz you're afraid it will ruin your friendship' blah blah blah."

"It's not funny, Shar. It sucks, a lot."

If Sharpay knew how to show empathy, her cheeks twisting and her mouth frowning would have been it.

"Speaking of, he's coming over to pick up my Legal Studies 211 book like nowish. So can you put some clothes on?" I tried to change the topic.

She scrunched her nose like a skunk pooped onions in our living room.

A buzzing exploded in our apartment, making me almost knock out of the bar stool. A rush of butterflies mutated and flapped in my stomach. We looked at each other before Sharpay groaned and grumbled, "Come get me when you take the trash out."

I ran towards the key pad that allowed entry into our ten story apartment building and shoved my finger into the button so hard I almost pushed it through the wall. One minute and three knocks later, I swung open the door to reveal Jason, still clad in his Redhawk jersey I'm sure he picked up from the bookstore.

"Hey!" I greeted.

He smiled at me, "Hey yourself," His eyes were a chocolate rim, instead of the black I last saw them. "How was your game?"

I shrugged, trying to regulate my heartbeat and keep myself from reaching up to brush the whips of his black hair from the spaces between his thick eyelashes.

"So great, and I'm glad we killed them. You guys stay for the whole game?"

He shook his head, "Nah, Karrie was starving so we left at half time."

I battled with my reflexes to keep my eyes on his. My fingers tugged at the bottom of my t-shirt, "Karrie? That blonde girl you were with at the pregame?"

My mental filter cursed myself for being too obviously jealous. If Jason noticed, he didn't say anything.

"Yeah, she's a freshman from back home."

Well, at least I had a year up on her.

"She's cute." I said, turning to the scatters of note cards on the counter.

"Yeah. She is."

Knives, piercing and sharpened, punctured tiny holes into all of my organs. I had a year of experience, however, temporarily covering the wounds with invisible bandaids. Between silent breaths, I reminded myself that this girl was just like last week's poli sci Sandy. It didn't mean anything.

"Is Sharpay here?" Jason changed the subject, glancing down the hallway.

"Yeah, she just got out of the shower," I said. "Taylor went to the library though."

He continued to stare at the closed door with the light drawing a glow beneath it, "Gotcha. How's the speech coming?"

I almost slapped him in the face. In the first five minutes that he had been standing in my kitchen, he referenced my two least favorite discussion topics: his fuck buddies and my major.

"Awful, stupid and so boring," I groaned. "I don't really give a crap about analyzing a past case and pointing out the prosecutor's strategies."

Jason crossed his arms and leaned back against the sink – god, did he know what he did to me? – and shook his head, "That's interesting Gabs, and pretty much the epitome of what you'll be doing for the rest of your life."

I picked up a pen and stabbed it menacingly into a note card, hoping to kill its heartbeat. My Facebook newsfeed automatically refreshed, revealing Zeke had taken a picture two hours ago via iPhone of Chad, Troy and Ethan Brooks collapsed on the cheap, black couches in the boys' living room. Troy's arm stretched out and provided a pillow for his head; his mouth ajar and his legs slightly curled in his jeans. For a millisecond, I remembered how tight his muscles felt against my bare skin when he laid in that same position a month ago, except I had been spooned in his arms.

Jason's smooth voice brought me out of the past again, "Want me to help you tomorrow? If I'm not too hung over?" He offered.

"Yes." I said too quickly, "Erm, why what's tonight?"

"Allison and Clare's. I'm goin' for a little bit."

Allie and Clare were two girls who appeared consistently at parties the guys threw. They were two tall, brunette and overly sexual girls who provided entertainment by making out with each other. Although a bit too extreme for my taste, they were friendly girls and always greeted me with tackles and sloppy kisses on my cheek.

Once I knew Jason was going, there was suddenly nothing more important than going to that party.

"Oh, yeah Sharpay and I are going too." I said.

Jason cocked an eyebrow, "I thought you said you had a lot to get done."

Again, I looked at my notecards. Again, I tried to poison them with my eyes.

"I don't have _that _much to do."

"I don't know, when I had the speech in my discussion, I spent all that Saturday night doing it." My stomach carved a hallow hole. It was the little things he said, like how he wasn't begging me to go to the party, that reminded me the cold truth that he had no feelings for me.

My purple tank top strap slipped when I shrugged my shoulders, "I guess…"

Through his jeans, a light illuminated. He fished through his pocket and removed his phone, paging through the text he just received. Judging by how he then picked up the maroon book waiting on the counter, he didn't notice how much his lack of interest bothered me. "Anyways, I gotta shower. Thanks for this," he said and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. Some sane side of me released an antidote for the shivers rolling down my spine at his fingers brushing against my bare skin. "Good luck on the speech."

"Yeah, I'll see you later."

Jason didn't return the statement, nor did his coffee colored eyes light up to a soft caramel with anticipation. Instead, his lips inflated against his white teeth. Reaching for the door, he gave a small wave and said, "Bye Gabs."

Only my MacBook's gentle hum could be heard after the door slammed shut. I sat on the bar stool, feeling stupid, pathetic and so goddamn lonely.

My eyes flicked to the computer screen once again. Comments threaded down from Zeke's picture: Chad gushing about how beautiful his nap was, Zeke informing them that they were out to the world. My mind was still lost in Jason's presence, his cologne and sweat mixture still lingered in my nostrils when I absentmindedly clicked on Troy's Facebook. His profile picture showed him immersed in a sea of students wearing a red and blue jersey. His thumbs pointed to the sky with a jay blue snapback swung backwards over his chestnut colored hair. Rider Redhawk, our mascot who stood next to him, brought a blinding white smile onto his face.

I then searched "Jason Cross" and pulled up Jason's profile. In his picture, his arms were slung around two blondes who lived on the floor above ours last year. A red SOLO cup hung from his fingers. His dark eyes were covered by wafer sunglasses.

I lingered and yelled, "_Sharpay_!"

The bedroom door clattered against the wall when it swung open. Sharpay padded barefoot into the kitchen only wearing red-and-black lacy boy shorts and a matching bra that attempted to lift her non-existent boobs.

"Yes?"

"How's your hangover?"

"Pretty much gone, why?"

My eyes never left the picture when I asked, "Can I borrow your blue dress tonight?"

Finally, I clicked back to my newsfeed and glanced up to watch the low smile draw over her pointed cheeks, "I thought you had too much to do to go out?"

Oh shit, forgot about that.

With a quick debate between the notecard stack and the picture of the napping boys once again shining on the screen, I smiled and promised, "We'll make it an early night."


	2. Night

**A/N: Okay, I'm going to be as blunt as possible: You guys are the shit. **

**I'm serious. I expected to upload this thing and have two people read it. It's so incredibly endearing to know that you guys are still excited about some shriveled up old writer who thinks more like a teenage boy than her female age. The response was really thoughtful and sincere, and I'm so blessed to have such kick ass readers, as I always had been. Thank you, so much, thank you.**

**So anyways, blah blah blah sentimental emotional shit blah blah here's part two of boredom insanity. Hope you like it, I know it's a quick turnaround, but I figured it was supposed to be a oneshot so why wait to post it. And not sure if I'll write anything else this summer so I'm not promising anything but hell, stranger things have happened.**

**Stay sexy my readers, it's been real.**

* * *

_Let's lay up until the sunrise_

_We could dance the night away_

_It could be like this forever_

'_Til tomorrow is today_

-Timeflies, "Until the Sunrise"

* * *

_**Saturday, October 22, 2011**_

_**10:48 p.m.**_

I didn't recognize the girl reflected in the Uker and Allen Dentistry building windows. She had black tresses that had been finger-combed loose, smoky eye shadow and silver flip flops. Her bandage dress glowed aqua under the street lamp as she ran towards her barefooted friend, which made her sparkling earrings glimmer every time they jingled. She also tugged at the dress's hem every seven steps to keep her ass from giving cars a peep show.

The girl – woman, rather – reflected in the Uker and Allen Dentistry windows looked nothing like the sweatpants wearing gym rat who passed the same building every Tuesday morning for class.

"I'm so… happy… I didn't wear… heels." I panted when we reached the sidewalk's edge. Tires washed against the pavement. Sharpay, however, was too busy pouring back the raspberry Smirnoff and lemonade mixture she concocted in our kitchen moments before we left. Her eyes had already blackened, her cheeks flushed to a rose – she was tipsy. In the hand not carrying the drink, a pair of white heels dangled from her polished fingertips.

She didn't say anything. Instead, she bolted the second the light flickered green. Long legs striding under her magenta pencil skirt, she looked like a beauty school gazelle.

"God dammit," I muttered under my breath before taking off after her. Tiny water droplets dotted the earth. Although I was more worried about insuring the gold Chevy Malibu didn't miss its breaks and take me out, the inner girl in me prayed the rain didn't waste the forty-minute curling iron job. "Shar! Sharpay can you chill for a second?"

She looked at me, though I'm not quite sure if she actually saw me. She immediately whipped out her phone from her purse, tapped buttons and then snapped her head towards the direction she was headed.

"Chad said it's 1150 Carson Street." She said, though I don't know if she was actually talking to me. Her voice was an octave higher than her bouncing tone.

"Of course he did, _Shar_!" I yelled when she took off in the direction her nose pointed her to.

If I had wanted a workout, I would have gone to the fucking gym.

I finally caught up to her in front of the white house decorated with a rickety porch and bicycles locked around the green railings. In typical college fashion, there was neither a garage nor outdoor mailbox. It squeezed between two other beaten up homes.

"This is it." Sharpay said. The sound of a distant base provided confirmation to her proclamation.

She plopped down on the porch step without a word. A gentle breeze floated over my arms, but the drizzle had stopped. I crossed them, shivered and watch her buckle the heels over her pink toes. When she stood, I had to tilt my head upwards to look at her face.

"Let's go."

We hurried in the alley between the houses to the backyard. I looked up to see the same robin's egg color painted on the square back porch. Below it, a staircase buried into the ground. The black light's violet hue glowed through the basement door's window. I followed Sharpay as her heels thudded against the wooden stairs. A brief fear that I would fall through the steps crossed my mind.

There were more people than I anticipated at a party before eleven o'clock. Tyga's latest hit thumped wildly against the off-white brick walls that lined the basement. Like most college houses, the floor was stone and grey, apart from the occasional stain. A bar laid at our immediate left. I noticed Chad behind it with his MacBook propped and plugged into the speakers. A keg sat several feet back. Already, a crowd circled around it like some religious sacrament. Clusters of people scattered throughout what would soon be the dance floor.

Sharpay wasted no time. She weaved between the small crowds, me on her heels, until she reached the bar. Under the black light, Chad's grin dazzled white against his chocolate skin.

"Hey blondie." He greeted. I felt like I didn't exist until after Sharpay stretched her long torso over the bar to fling her arms around his neck. When she settled herself, he finally remembered there was a universe outside. His eyes met mine, "Sup Gabs."

He offered each of us an arm to lock into, which we gladly accepted. I tightly squeezed his shoulder and giggled. He smelled like cheap beer.

The heat escalated and I suddenly realized we had company. Turning around, my heart stuttered. Jason stood, looking at me with a pale button up rolled to his elbows and a red cup brushing his lips. Zeke lingered at his immediate left, next to him Brooks' drunk eyes already drooped along with Kevin, Josh and Eric – also my ex fellow floor mates. Troy acted as the final link to the circle that enclosed us.

"Hey, I thought you said you weren't coming." Jason said and dropped an arm around my shoulder.

My fluttering butterflies– actually, the alcohol substituted as steroids and made them monsters – scratched their wings against the delicate skin in my stomach. I tried not to show how much it hurt that he wasn't more excited to see him.

I shrugged, but couldn't control the way my arm wrapped around his waist, "Well, I'm here."

He let me go. I looked away when he also hugged Sharpay, who was now too drunk to push him off or tell him how much she wished his hand would find its way into a cheese grater. My eyes found Troy, who smirked when I raised my eyebrows in greeting.

"Where are the other girls?" Zeke asked.

"Kelsi said all of them were staying in," I referenced the five person apartment Kelsi was a part of. "Good for them for being responsible."

I felt Troy's eyes before I saw them looking at me, "You're not even drinking." He teased, "What is that, water?"

"Yes," I played along. "Wanna chug it?"

"I don't wanna be a lame ass like some people," he said and took a long draw of his beer. "You should give that water to LeBron, since you love him so much, and drink real stuff."

LeBron was his pet swordtail fish, which sported sunburst orange and I drunkenly adored when I had been in his apartment, despite that he was named after one of the cockiest NBA players in the history of history. Pretending to be offended at his first comment, I smacked his bicep as hard as I could. He didn't flinch. Instead, he caught my eye. Like the reflex I had when I returned Jason's hug earlier, I couldn't control the way my cheeks burned when my smile grew.

"_Gabi_!" Sharpay suddenly blocked my view. Her hand squeezed my upper arm and she began to drag me away, "I gotta break the seal."

I didn't have much of a choice. The last thing I saw before we turned the corner, however, was Jason's eyes watching us.

* * *

_**Sunday, October 23, 2011**_

_**12:24 a.m.**_

Sweat. Everything fucking smelled like sweat.

I danced with Zeke in the throngs of students. Every time we swayed left, my arm bumped against some girl's flat butt. When we switched directions, my hand grazed some bearded boy's thigh. I could barely breathe without hitting someone else. My eyes occasionally flickered to Sharpay shoving her way through the masses, reached over the bar to grab Chad's neck and suck his lips off. When I wasn't keeping tabs on my best friend, I glared at Jason's grip on the skinny brunette who had Kim Kardashian's ass and hallow eyes.

I felt euphoric. My BAC was at that perfect level that anymore would tip it over the edge and stupidity would start to creep out. I was, however, intoxicated enough to feel endorphins flow through the river of my blood and surge through my muscles. The only thing in the world that mattered was dancing.

Oh, and the boy whose lips moved against the Kardashian bitch's ears.

"I'm gonna head to the BP table, wanna come?" Zeke asked me. I turned around to face him, whipping his chest with my hair. Brooks' arched to shoot, Troy did some victory dance that looked like he was trying out for a Beyonce video.

I remembered my best friend. Chad's afro bounced up and down to the music and he waved at me when he saw me staring, but no Sharpay.

"Umm, you go ahead." I spoke quicker than I would when I was completely sober, "I'm gonna make sure Sharpay isn't puking her guts out."

He glanced at Sharpayless Chad and furrowed his eyes, "Want me to go with you?"

I shook my head, "No. She's pretty drunk, but I'll find her."

My hunt began with Chad. I wiggled my way between dancing couple and approached the bar. His hands flew wildly in the air, offbeat to the base. When he noticed my elbows rested on the bar, his eyes widened with delight as though I had studied abroad in Madrid and he hadn't seen me in months.

"Gabi, Gabi, Gabi! Sup kiddo?" He yelled over the music. "You want a shot! Let me get you a shot…"

"Chad, _Chad_!" My hand pressed against the top of the Svedka bottle he magically conjured. "I'm drunk enough. Where's your squeeze?"

He blinked, confused. Without moving his head, his eyes rolled downwards and then back up to me, "Uhh, you want to do what?"

I jumped up and balanced on the bar – kicking some chick's calf in the process – to smack the back of his head. His ringlets flew in a haphazard array.

"Ow…"

"God dammit Danforth, you have the attention span of a fucking goldfish," He crinkled his nose at the impossible task. "_Sharpay_. Where is my roommate?"

"Uh, I dunno," He slurred. Then he grabbed my arm, pulled me towards him so hard that my feet fluttered an inch off the ground. "I have to tell you… I like her Gabi… I really _really _like her."

"I know, Chad, I know you do. But I need to find her…"

"_Danforth_!" Brooks' booming voice thundered over the music. He bulldozed towards the bar, nearly knocking me over, "Shots!"

I would have thought it was Christmas Eve, the way Chad leapt up and down and clapped his hands, "Yeah! Yeah! Shots! Yeah!"

He was useless.

I could have been just too drunk, or time really could have stopped ticking when I turned around and saw the grey shirt swoop his grasp to snatch the unmistakable magenta skirt passing his way.

I knew it was coming before Jason spun Sharpay in his arms. Reflexes, like blinking and breathing, suddenly erased from my memory. His hands gripped her waist and directed her towards the wall. The numbing effects of the alcohol in my blood caught a green flame and ignited. My face, eyes and heart exploded with hot tar when Jason's head tilted. He went in for the kill.

It didn't matter that even in her drunken stupor Sharpay shoved his chest the moment their lips brushed. I didn't feel her when she squeezed her nails into my arm. I couldn't move, speak or inhale the thick oxygen. The apologizes stumbling off her tongue were Chinese to me. Something foreign that sounded like "I saw it… he kissed you… not your fault…"came from an unknown place, and I didn't realize it came from my mouth. I couldn't feel her when she grazed past me on her pursuit to the bar to reach Chad.

Then, breaking me from my catatonic state, Jason turned towards me.

The surge of anger and pain reached a boiling point when he stepped forward. The two emotions in my heart swirled and blended until they rooted a thought I never thought would plant in my head.

I wanted nothing to do with Jason Cross.

Confession: I'm a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. There was a reason I skipped a studying night to go to Allie and Clare's that night. There was a reason I turned around from the bar at that moment to see Jason kiss Sharpay.

There was a reason that the first thing I saw when I whipped around and started to storm away was Troy Bolton leaned up against the bar laughing at something Zeke just said.

Something stirred in me. Troy became gravity: no matter how hard I resisted, he forced me to him. I don't know if the alcohol, my pain from the kiss I just witnessed, or some greater force that willed me, but I suddenly shoved past the grinding college students. I squeezed and stepped on girls' feet, making them shriek. Fuck them, I didn't care.

Troy didn't notice me until I breeched the final barrier between him and the dry humping sea. Without a greeting or even time for a smile, I grabbed his cheeks and pulled him to me.

In hindsight, I wish I could say our first kiss that night had nothing to do with Jason. Honestly, however, it wasn't out of spite or to make him jealous. I wrapped my arms around Troy's neck and reached for his lips because, at that moment, I needed to forget about Jason. I needed fun. And every moment with Troy leading up to that kiss – first meeting him on the boys' couches during a Dallas Cowboys football game, the first Redhawk game where we stood next to each other, our first hook up, this day – exploded with fun.

To my surprise, he returned my kiss with as much fervor as my lips moved. His breath tasted hot, rather than like his PBR. My fingers toyed with the tiny hairs at the back of his neck; his forearm crushed me against his chest: stable, a rock.

I panted when he finally released me. Through my eyelashes, I gazed up into his crystal eyes and smiled.

"C'mon, let's get our grind on." Troy said. His hand wrapped around mine and we disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

_**Sunday, October 23, 2011**_

_**1:58 a.m.**_

Jason didn't creep into my night again until after the basement cleared out and I stood, shivering with crossed arms, in the backyard while talking to Zeke and Brooks.

"Hey guys!" Jason walked up the slight incline and greeted us all too excitedly. Zeke and Brooks gave him each a lame head nod. I trained my eyes on Brooks' awkward red bush growing under his chin.

Careful not to look at the boy I used to be unable to stop staring at, I caught a glimpse of Troy and Chad perched on the back porch. Sharpay was wound around Chad's waist, trying to snatch the laptop in his opposite grasp. There was no question that Sharpay would be dead to the world the second she laid in Chad's bed for the night. Troy looked in my direction. It was impossible for him to catch the blush race to my cheeks, but I quickly turned away.

Someone kicked my shoe. I glanced up at Jason, my eyes glowering black.

"Am I in trouble?" He asked, innocence laced in his voice.

Given that I hadn't drank since the last sip of my water bottle I brought, I didn't realize I was still tipsy until I mumbled under my breath, "You've got to be fucking kidding me…"

I was thankful Brooks and Zeke were currently rehashing the afternoon game's highlights and didn't see the way I jerked away when Jason reached for my arm. In my almost-but-not-quite sober-haze, I couldn't tell if I was angrier that he disrespected his roommate by attempting to kiss Chad's girl, or that he was trying to smooth talk his way back on my good side.

I made it clear I would have shoved his apology in a toilet and flushed by immersing myself deeply into the other two boy's conversation. After two minutes of not responding to Jason's attempt at my attention, he finally sighed and tightly announced that he was heading home. Brooks and Zeke called out their farewells; I continued to stare at the broken leaf squeezed between my foot and my flip flop.

"Gabi?" Zeke's soft voice brought me out of my thoughts. I looked up at him.

"Sorry, what'd you say?"

"I asked if you wanted me to walk you back." He said. Though I'm pretty sure he regretted it when a rush of wind frosted our bare skin. He shivered. I crossed my arms and scissored my legs together, creating friction.

Maybe it was coincidence, maybe it was fate. Maybe Sharpay really just needed to puke. Whatever the reasoning, I glanced sideways to catch Chad's fingers pulling a stumbling Sharpay towards the road. Balancing his laptop with Sharpay's heels dangling from his other hand, he looked in our direction. Our eyes caught.

The little fucker smirked, jerked his head back towards where Troy came bounding down the stairs alone and winked.

When Troy's eyes lingered on me for a moment before he assumed I wasn't going to come over, I realized then that I had a decision to make.

Swallowing, and ignoring all subtly, I shook my head and said, "Nah, I'll ask Troy."

I'm sure there were wolf whistles after I waved to my friends and ran towards the side of the house, where Troy disappeared to. I didn't give a shit.

What I did give a shit about was how Troy's stride didn't falter once when I dropped to his side. He turned and smirked coolly, but I could see the way his eyes sparked excitement when he spoke, "Now what do _you _want?"

"Well…" it surprised me how easy flirtation sounded on my lips, "You live like two blocks from me and I was thinking you could walk me home. Same direction and everything."

We approached where the sidewalk interrupted the grass, "Well, what if I told you I was goin' left?"

On cue, he spun in the opposite direction of our apartments. I rolled my eyes, forgetting about the cold and followed him.

"Please?" I didn't like begging, especially while flirting, but between chancing abduction by walking home alone or pleading a little, my pride wasn't really a priority.

Troy must have noticed and disproved of my disappearing flirtation, because he looked at me in the eyes and said, "Only if you give me a piggy back ride home."

My eyebrow quirked upwards, but before I had chance to respond, he walked behind me with his hands on my shoulders. His fingers tickled the sensitive spot, just where my neck met the bone.

"I'm five-two Troy! I'm not going to be able to carry you all the way back."

"So? I'm five-eleven. Height has nothing to do with it. C'mon, Short Stuff, show me some muscles." His hand trailed down my shoulder and gently squeezed my bicep.

I whirled around to face him again. By some grace of a higher power, I managed to step easily as I walked backwards, gazing up into his face through my eyelashes. His smirk shined down on me under the street lamps. Under my skin, a glowing sensation trickled down my veins.

We approached the main street that Troy lived on, though there were at least eight blocks we'd have to walk until he dropped me off and I could make it to my bed. In normal daylight hours, cars would zoom by and gangs of students swarmed the sidewalks. Instead, drunken twenty-something year olds scattered across the street. High pitched giggling and the clicking sound of too-high heels polluted the night. It had stopped raining. The stars could vaguely be made out above the city lights.

"Sorry, I'm not the kines major here. Shouldn't you be carrying _me _home, _muscles_?" I inquired and mocked him back. Someone shouted at us from across the street as we passed a closed bar.

"I'm preparing you for the real world here. When you're in a court room and have to size up against murderers and drug dealers."

I tried not to let it show that I was surprised –and impressed – that he remembered my major. Since I was too busy maintaining my cool, I forgot to hide the nose scrunch that indicated I'd rather jump into a pile of cow poop then pursue this betrothed career path. Troy's eyebrows pulled together.

"What's that look?" He said: the most serious statement out of his mouth all night.

Still walking backwards, I almost tripped over the curb when we made it to the street. Troy's hand shot out, prepared to capture me in case I tumbled to the floor. Thankfully, I didn't. Instead, I shook my head.

"Don't worry about it," I mumbled.

It didn't seem to be a good enough answer for him. Just as he opened his mouth to rebut, a blonde in a pink shirt that was stretched so far her neon bra showed on the perpendicular sidewalk yelled, "Oh my God, you two are the cutest couple I've ever seen!"

The comment from the drunken stranger forced me to slow my backwards strides. Troy was suddenly inches away from my body. Heat radiated from his skin, and I found myself frantically flying through the files stored in my brain that had an image of what his bare chest – and not to mention other organs – looked like under his current black t-shirt.

For the record, those files were saved in a desk with a warning label that read "Must Take Cold Shower After Viewing".

After a quick smile, I turned and faced forward, finding myself in front of Troy's brown-brick apartment building. Black stanchion connected by black chains hugged the walkway leading to the parking lot his building overshadowed. Given it was close to 3 a.m., no windows from any of the four stories were illuminated. I glanced sideways at him.

"Well, even though my entire walk back kinda sucked," I teased. "Thanks for-"

Before I could finish my sentence, Troy snatched my arm and leaned against the pillar. Lightning struck my heart the moment I stumbled in between his legs.

"You're not going anywhere."

While he smiled down at me, with his hands on my hips and drew me to him, I realized everything about Troy Bolton smoldered. He hadn't immediately captured my attention like a flame that erupted in the dead of the night. Instead, he burned with low embers; appearing innocent by sight, but far too hot to touch.

It was like our first encounter erased from my memory: I suddenly saw him for the first time. His body carried different brown hues like a Pueblo painting: golden skin splashed by the Arizonan sun, chestnut hair and amber highlights brushed through his spiky bangs. The only splatter of color came from his eyes. They were memorizing – like chips of stained-glass that glittered sapphire when held up to the light.

He was far more beautiful than the Mona Lisa up for exhibit on a Caribbean beach at sunset.

And then his lips found mine.

Kissing Troy felt like a wave washed over your skin and left you helpless. Even if I wanted to resist the under pull, it was impossible. All other organs in my body shrank while my heart swelled. The cold, the lights, the sidewalk beneath my feet disappeared. My senses only recognized Troy's hands running over my back and waist and cheeks and neck. Nothing else mattered, nor had anything before that moment.

He kissed beneath my eyes and left me breathless before he whispered, "C'mon Short Stuff, LeBron's dying to see you."

I rolled onto my tip toes, sucked his bottom lip and yanked his hand. We raced towards the door.

* * *

_**Sunday, October 23, 2011**_

_**6:04 a.m.**_

Troy shuddered and fell onto my chest. The opposite hand that hadn't been stroking his – well, insert whatever body part you want it to be here – ran through the silk tips of his hair while he panted into my neck and groaned, "Holy shit, where'd you learn to do _that_?"

His praise shocked me. My confidence flirting with him had disappeared. I laughed, unable to think of a clever response. He kissed my sticky skin with a steady rhythm. A noise in between a whimper and a sigh escaped my lips when I pressed my cheek against his hair. Lucky for him, the male anatomy allots easy finishing. Piss – I was still horny.

"Let me get you tissues or something." He said after his chest stopped heaving.

He sprung up and returned with Kleenex. I thanked him, cleaned my stomach and felt him slide into the queen next to me again. After I finished and tossed the remnants, my legs straddled his thigh and sparks popped on my skin when he kissed me.

That lazy swapping-spit game went on for ten minutes – or something like that, I wasn't exactly timing. It ended when my eyes flitted open and I caught sight of the red clock glowing on his nightstand.

I almost bit his tongue when I said, "Fuck."

He kissed under my chin, "What?"

"It's almost six-thirty."

"In the morning?"

I rolled my eyes, "No, at night."

He twisted up so his head peaked through the window my shoulder provided. I pressed my lips to his deltoid muscle when he said, "Damn." Slowly, he fell back to the bed and brushed a curl out of my eye.

I should have realized it previous to the clock check: Troy's skin started to grow golden rather than gray from the sunrise shimmering through the window.

I was losing him quickly. Troy stopped kissing me, but his fingertips traced every bump on my spine. I couldn't stop tasting him, like finding water in the middle of the desert. Finally, after showering his chest with pecks, I slipped off of his body and turned to the side. He swooped an arm around my stomach and gently stroked my belly button until we fell asleep.

* * *

_**Sunday, October 23, 2011**_

_**8:44 a.m.**_

A leaf blower's rev woke us with a start.

"- _the fuck_?" Troy groaned into the pillow his face planted in sometime while we were asleep. I nearly jumped, given that I hadn't been allotted enough time to fully complete several sleep cycles. After blinking several times, I found myself facing Troy's very naked image running a hand over his nose to wipe away sleep.

The pang in my chest surprised me when I realized I was disappointed that we weren't spooning anymore. Trying not to make it obvious, I snuggled into the covers and squeezed my eyes shut. The weight shifted on the bed. Three minutes later, a toilet flushed and the facet ran. Troy's feet padded against the floor when he peaked around the doorless entry way to the bed, which was tucked behind a wall that didn't quite reach the ceiling, giving his bed more privacy.

He smiled at me when my eyelids flew open. Sitting on the edge of his bed, now clad in his boxers, he handed me my white-and-black laced bra and PINK thong. My heart sank.

Troy was kicking me out.

I felt like my body shrank to the size of a pencil. It was so stupid – I shouldn't be feeling like my stomach twisted inside out, right? The previous night was just a drunk hook up, again. Of course Troy didn't want anything more.

Why did it hurt?

I swallowed thickly, clasped my bra and wiggled into my panties. I then started to slide towards the end of the bed when Troy quirked an eyebrow.

"Wait, are we getting up?"

His question caught me off guard. I stared at him expecting his neck to sprout four more heads. When I finally determined it wasn't going to, and Troy was not kidding, I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Only if you want to."

He tugged on my arm when he returned back to his side on the bed. My heart became the location of a Mexican fiesta when I followed suit and laid next to him. His fingertips stroked my stomach.

"Careful," I cautioned. "LeBron could get jealous."

"LeBron can suck it. I'll buy him a goldfish to play with."

My hair tugged. Troy nose buried itself into my curls and I thought, with prayer, that he was going to kiss me again. He didn't, but given the fact that I wasn't currently beginning my walk of shame home yet, I couldn't really push my luck. Last time we hooked up, I bolted the minute I awoke to hide from my shame that I jumped into bed with him so soon. Now I regretted that decision.

"Troy?"

"Do you ever sleep, Short Stuff?"

I giggled, assuming he was referring to the fact that I refused to allow him a couple minutes of shut eye last night before we went in for round three.

"No… why'd you transfer to U of A?"

The bed shifted. Above my head, he leaned onto his elbow. The aqua specks in his eyes glittered when he furrowed his eyebrows. Deep purple shadows bruised beneath his lids.

"Uh, I wasn't challenged at Phoenix. Here has an awesome kines program," he seemed embarrassed by his answer, given that it was the most serious conversation we had ever exchanged. I gently ran my thumb over his forearm, urging him to go on. "And U of A is famous. This school is awesome."

I smiled, agreeing, "So you're happy you switched?"

He gave my waist a squeeze, "You could say that."

"What's it like living in a studio by yourself?"

Troy fell back behind me again, rubbing his leg against mine.

"I have no energy for this right now," he mumbled into my neck. "You can ask me my entire life story and you can tell me all about why you hate your major when we go get ice cream at the union tonight."

The fiesta in my heart started doing keg stands. Ninety-eight point seven percent of hook ups never follow up with a sober date. I almost shivered with anticipation when I asked, "We're getting ice cream tonight? Like a…?"

"Shhh… less talk, more sleep."

I smiled so hard my cheeks burned.

* * *

_**Sunday, October 23, 2011**_

_**10:01 a.m.**_

The apartment smelled like burnt butter.

I shut the door quietly behind me, figuring that I would be greeted to Taylor making a gourmet breakfast just to rub it in our face that she was not hung over and we were. Imagine my surprise, then, when a blonde ponytail flipped from the stove and Sharpay stood looking at a ghost. White soup puddled on a frying pan and something that looked like bacon snapped in the microwave.

"Oh my god, you're home." The caramel in her eyes shone brightly in the doe reflection.

Before I could react, Sharpay choked me with her hug. Since she was significantly taller than I, I had to brace myself from tumbling to the floor. I blinked several times, confused, and patted her back.

"That's a good morning I'm not used to…"

"You hate me. Oh my god, Gabi, I'm so sorry. I understand if you never want to talk to me again…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" I finally pried her fingers from my arms and looked up into her flustered face. My eyebrow quirked, "I know you're not exactly Zeke in the kitchen, but I'm not going to throw you out over a little burnt bacon."

It was clear that she didn't hear me when she said, "I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize it what Jason was doing until the asswipe raped me with his lips."

Oh yeah, that.

I expected the onslaught of anger to rage through me, to curse her and slap her across the face. It never came. Instead, I placed a drawstring backpack holding Sharpay's dress and my earrings onto the counter. The black basketball shorts falling off my ass also needed to be hiked up.

"Oh yeah. Is Chad pissed?" I asked, and jumped up on the barstool. The blue Redhawks t-shirt I wore pooled in my lap.

"The fuck what Chad thinks. Gabriella," she sprinted around the counter and grasped my hand. "You are my best friend. I was a stupid drunk idiot and should have kicked him in the balls the second I saw him."

I swallowed and didn't believe what came out of my mouth when I said, "Shar. It's okay. I don't care."

She looked at me like I just told her I was moving to Alaska.

"_What_?"

"I said," I patted her fingers. "It's okay. I saw what happened and it was all him. And I don't really give a shit, he's a douche bag for kissing his roommate's girl anyways."

I'd never seen Sharpay speechless before. She stood, jaw dropped and befuzzled. I guess I didn't blame her. At the time, I didn't really understand it myself. The past year had wasted hours upon hours obsessing about Jason or daydreaming about him waking up one day, sprinting to my apartment and begging for me on his knees. I imagined he would someday surprise me in our Legal Studies lecture, slipping his hand into mine.

I never imagined I'd be sitting in Troy's clothes, smelling like his sweat and praying for his name to light up on my scratched cell phone screen. Sharpay's mention of his name was the first time I remembered Jason existed on this planet.

Then the realization dawned over her pointed features, a morning sun. She leaned her chin onto her palm. Pink shimmers reflected off the cabinets when she tapped her nails against her swollen lip.

"You were with a boy last night."

I blushed before I answered, which seemed to be enough for her.

"If you say you were with Troy…"

I didn't understand why my voice dropped and my heart skipped a beat. "Then I won't." I replied. Did I giggle? What the hell?

In typical Sharpay fashion, instead of rushing over and jumping up and down with me, she simply smirked in an 'I told you so you little naïve bitch' sort of way. A pancake became black on the skillet.

"Did you have sex?"

I rolled my eyes, "No."

"Did you at least get his number this time?" She asked, ripping a grape off the stem and popped it into her mouth more suggestively than a porn star.

There was that stupid grin plastered on my face again when I fingered the broken keys on my cheap phone.

"Well," again, instead of squealing with excitement, Sharpay slid a crispy pancake that still smoked in front of me. She grabbed an equally black one for herself and raised her fork. "This calls for a celebration."

We both laughed, choked on the charred fluff, and raced each other to spit in the sink.

* * *

_**Sunday, October 23, 2011**_

_**7:58 p.m.**_

Seeing Jason walk towards me sitting on the bench in the union that night was somewhat of a dream. First, I spent the entire day in a haze sloppily pulling a speech from the gravels; therefore I hadn't had time to nap at all. I would be lying if I said that I watched him without a tiny flip of my stomach or a pang in my heart. It didn't rampage over my body, shaking my mind and soul, like it might have twenty-four hours ago, but it did exist.

His smile was too perfect after he stopped in front of me. No hesitation or nerves existed in his shining black eyes.

"You look nice." He said cheerfully.

That was crap. I looked like shit and I knew it. Between the massive purple sacks beneath my eyes and the glazed stare that made me look like I smoked seventy ounces of weed with Bob Marley, I was rough. I at least managed to wiggle myself into a pair of tights, boots and a tunic instead of the typical sweats I wore to class or the library.

A tight smile formed. I knew Jason's game: he wouldn't admit he did anything wrong but instead would sweet talk me into caving and forgiving him.

"How'd the speech turn out?" He asked, putting his hands into his pockets.

I shrugged, flicked my eyes towards the door and then back at him, "It went fine. I finished like an hour ago."

"Damn, how good does it feel to be done?"

"I still have to give the thing." I said, making figurines with the bottom hem of my purple tunic.

Jason's laugh sounded fake, "Oh yeah, kinda an important part."

I never believed that someone's heart could _actually _skip a beat when someone walked in the room, but the flutter in my stomach when the entrance door swung open proved it could be pretty damn close. It didn't take long for Troy's eyes to find me. He immediately started strutting over, a charming – if Troy Bolton _could _be charming – smile wiped on his lips.

And, of course, he teased me by nodding to Jason first. Little brat.

"Troy! Wow, everyone's here tonight." Jason looked surprised by Troy's presence. I couldn't help but stutter my breath when I realized this was the first time I had seen Troy in something other than a t-shirt or a cut off shirt. Maturity was present in his button up shirt and jeans.

And he dressed up for me. Boom.

"What's up man?" Troy asked, though wasn't looking for an answer. He then turned to me, smiled and said, "Hey."

"Hi." Why the hell did I suddenly feel shy? Granted, the last time he saw me I had just surfaced from his bed after being naked for hours.

"Allie and Clare's last night was insane, right? I was fucking shitfaced." Jason told Troy, but I saw him look at me.

Ah, there was the excuse. Classic Jason Cross, never admitting to his mistakes, but alluding to the fact that he royally fucked up.

"Really?" I asked. Venom hissed in my voice. "I've seen you way more drunk before."

"Yeah, man, the party was sick. The walk home last night kinda sucked though." Troy said, smirking at me.

"Hey, now! I made it way less boring." I snapped. Troy snickered again.

"Nah."

"Yeah."

His eyes twinkled, "Only a little."

Jason's head jolted between the two of us like Nadal had sized up against Federer. Some shorted wires in his head seemed to connect, for realization that we were here together suddenly burst across his face. I didn't really notice until he hiked up his backpack and sighed.

"I should go study," he placed a hand on my bicep and said, "I'll see you later, Gabi. Troy."

Troy did his lame head nod again, "Later dude."

As I watched Jason walk towards the entrance doors, I knew that I'd eventually forgive him for kissing Sharpay. It may have not been that night, or for another week, but we would fall back into friendship once again. College is a time that people are allowed to make mistakes, whether they may be relationships, majors or accidentally picking the wrong flavor ice cream on a first date. Thankfully, we're all in that same 'fuck up' boat together, so we can enjoy that beautiful ride. Besides, had Jason never kissed Sharpay, I would have never given Troy a chance, and we would have never eventually dated and moved in together after our caps had been thrown.

But that's another story.

"So Short Stuff," Troy elbowed me after I finally stood. "Tell me why you hate your major."

We started walking towards the ice cream stand. A jolt electrocuted my nerves when our fingers brushed against each other.

"Oh god. It's a long story."

Troy smiled, "I've got time."

"Well I'm running on approximately two hours of sleep," I noted the way his blue eyes sparkled in remembrance. "And we could be talking til dawn... erm, again."

"I'm all about round twos," he winked and nudged me again. "C'mon, race you to the chocolate."

I looked up at him through my eyelashes and, before sprinting to the front of the line and pissing off half of the campus in the union, said, "In your dreams."


End file.
